"Why do you want to paint?" This is the question I have been asking myself for a quite long time, but I still have no good answer for it. In my early art years, I felt the answer is no brainer. I just want to do it and felt good. Now I examine my early motivation, I know that was the ego. We all want to demonstrate that our life has a special meaning. Painting was one of the few things I could easily do better. However now, I feel the ego is so absurd. It has meaning only to yourself. To other people it does not mean much. There are so many great artists created fabulous works. If you happened to be one of them, so what. For a long time, I feel painting has been my way to make a living. Well in our monetary world, it has been proved this was a rather stupid idea. If I love money, I should have done real estates and even my previous engineering life would make more sense. Recently, I am very interested in the life of Paul Gauguin. To be honest with you, I never liked his art, but his life as an human was so fascinating. "The moon" or "Six pence"? That is the question. At this new year's eve. I think I know this life better.
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